The Extraordinary Life and Times of Lily Evans
by charismaticsilver
Summary: Set in the medieval ages, a peasant girl finds herself in a whirl of adventures when she runs away from her stepmother. Soon, she takes up many identities, all the while meeting one familiar face over and over...a Sir James Potter.
1. Chapter 1

The Extraordinary Life and Times of

Lily Evans

**Disclaimer**: VERY IMPORTANT! This story is completely by the storyline of Mary Hooper's The Remarkable Life and Times of Eliza Rose. The plot is most definitely hers, and I am by no way even considering taking credit for its brilliance. The original book is absolutely fascinating, and most likely better than anything that I'll be able to write, but for those of you that have read the book, I will try to make it close to the quality of the brilliant Ms. Hooper. As for the characters, some will be actual historic figures and other will be my creation…but most of them will be J.K. Rowling's played into the characters of Mary Hooper's book. And for those of you who have not read the book, you really should! Especially if you like the story that I am _improvising, _but there will be some things that are different, like minor characters and places, but the plot will remain the same.

* * *

_Prologue_:

Wiltshire, 1655

The bedroom in the fortress is lavish and elegant, with rich designs spread throughout the room. If one were to look inside, one would see large and beautiful tapestries and paintings that hung on the walls, but the most eye-catching thing in the room had to be the over-sized canopy bed, decorated in gold silk and carved mahogany. However, the occupants in the room did not notice any of these trivial matters because as of the moment, childbirth was taking place, and as with childbirths back in the "old days", this particular one was very closed and private. The heavy draperies were shut tightly so that not even one strand of sunlight was allowed to emanate into the room. Several candles provided the light in the stifling room, and on a nearby cherry-wood stand was a large white china bowl filled with lavender and rose-petals for a light fragrance.

A solicitous woman (quite elegant and striking) within opens the door to a maid carrying a large pot of coal, but does not allow the maid to enter.

"Give it to me, quickly now," says the woman in a hushed manner.

"Dear madam, it's quite heavy and dirty," the maid replied, quite surprised. "It would be best—"

"My daughter is the most important thing at this moment, and she is not to be disturbed. It matters not if I get dirty."

"How does my mistress?" the maid asked, trying to peer inside.

"She does well," the woman replied shortly, preparing to shut the door.

"But madam, are you sure you do not want me to send for a midwife? Or perhaps a doctor? Or even the housekeeper?"

"No, but thank you for your kind words," the woman said firmly, shutting the door in the persistent maid's face.

"Who was that?" a younger woman with dark red hair asks.

"Shh—no one of importance. Just a chamber maid with coals."

"Perhaps she—"

"Hush, darling!" the older woman says quickly. "Do not worry yourself; she saw nothing." She goes over and smoothes down the hair of the younger woman, who was in the final stages of labor. She waits until the pains have decreased before putting a cup to her lips.

"What is it?"

"Just drink it. It's only an herbal drink to give you strength for the final stages of birth. 'Tis from my own apothecary."

The younger woman groans quietly. She chances a glance at one of the tapestries near the other side of the room. "The babe—is it still there?" she whispers.

"Of course he is, safe and quiet."

"What if he doesn't remain quiet? What if he starts crying?"

"It matters not, for it will only be me and you that hears him cry." She puts a cloth to the young woman's forehead.

"Is Petunia well?"

"She is fine and happy and is with her nurse at the minute. You must not think too much…just concentrate on this child—"

The younger woman suddenly turn her head into the pillow, biting for fear of screaming, as a labor contraction occurred.

"Soon. It will be very soon," murmurs the older woman. "Not much longer."

"You've been saying that for hours!"

Brisk, masculine footsteps echoed outside the hallway. The door opens, and a man dressed in resplendent clothes stalked in the room. "Has my son arrived?"

"Soon. It shall be soon." The older woman exchanges a surreptitious glance with the younger, more anxious woman.

The man walks closer. His cleft chin and broad shoulders are in the shape of nobility, but his watery eyes and large forehead contrasted the noble figure sharply. His hands were still bloody and red from the hunt from which he had returned.

"What? Still soon?"

"Yes, soon," the bedded woman said shakily. "I'm quite positive. Soon."

"Where are the midwives? The neighbors? Where are the people to attend the birth of this boy?"

"My daughter insists on complete silence this time around," hissed the older woman. "She made it adamant about me being the only one attending this birth." She glances up at the man, and strains a smile. "It's all raucous and cantankerous with the neighbors here, and as I'm sure you would know, my good sir, she needs the rest."

"Custom is custom though," the man says, but shrugs. He stands proudly. "A son! My son! I've waited for a long time for this birth." He looks scrutinizingly from one woman to the next. "But you are sure it will be a boy this time?"

"Indeed," the older one says with confidence. "My daughter has taken every one of my herbal drinks the minute the baby was conceived. Various wise women we have consulted have also ensured that we shall be having a boy."

"Be it may," said the man. "But if—"

"My good sir!" the woman replied. "Please have care to not alarm my daughter at this time. Do not vituperate her with threats! I will assure you, sir, that this child shall be a boy. There will be no need to throw my daughter to the streets." She stares at him frostily while speaking. A scream echoes in the room, and the man hastily leaves, ordering to be informed the minute the child is born.

As his echoes retreats, the young woman moves her head slightly. "I screamed so he would leave us in peace."

"Well-placed, my daughter," the older woman smiles.

"It was out of fear of noise coming from the—"

"Hush! Just forget the child in the passageway. It shall all be over soon."

The pains become more frequent and steady as the hours tick by. The older woman, sensing that it was time, bolts the lock on the bedroom door. She murmurs encouragement to her daughter, massaging her slowly, spreading her legs.

Finally, with the last push, came a beautiful, angelical child. Even before the cord was cut, the young woman heaved to push herself up and look at the child. Framed with dark red locks, and the greenest of emerald green eyes, the child is lovely. Except…

"Another girl." Her mother shakes her head wearily.

"Let me see…please!" the woman cries frantically.

"No, it is best if you do not."

"Is she healthy? Is she beau—beautiful?" the woman asks, her voice breaking.

"She's perfect. Healthy in size, and no limbs missing." The older woman promptly wraps the baby in silk cloth.

"Mother…please, just let me—" the woman pleads, and the other sighs, handing the delicate life towards her. "So different from Petunia! Yet…so much belonging to me…"

"Hurry!" the older woman urges.

"My poor, sweet child," the young woman says softly. "How will you be treated by your new momma? Still loved as if with me? Will she tell you fairy tales?" She looks at the baby for the final time, stretching as if memorizing her every feature. "Once upon a time," she sings softly. "there was a lovely child born in a castle…"

* * *

_Chapter One_

_London, after fifteen years_

"Yes, my precious. Come here…"

It was that scratchy voice that Lily woke up to but she did not have any recollection of knowing it. The voice was close to her, but, wanting to feign sleep, she lay still and silent until she could get a bearing on her surroundings.

"That's right, lovely. Into the box you go…"

Surely it was not her being addressed! Into a box? How juvenile! But then where was she? Definitely not in her cozy room at home. It had never been this uncomfortable there, and cloying, odorous smells were making her nauseous. Lily felt with the pads of her fingers the texture of the floor she was on. Slimy and damp…thank goodness she was laying on her arm or her face would have been touching the wet and nasty floor as well.

Suddenly, a bang made her open her eyes. "Got you, precious!" said the same crackly voice, with a touch of laughter. "How precious and sweet, yes you are!" the voice crooned. The owner of the voice was a skinny thing of bones and rags, toothless, and grimy. The woman was still cooing at what seemed to Lily like a rat in a box. But who was she?

Lily shook her head to clear herself. She was in a dark, low ceilinged room with twenty or so other women. Some were chained to walls with iron fetters, and some lay on the floor in an ungainly heap. Still, others were on hard pallets; it was hard to say who was dead and who was alive. Yet, she couldn't remember arriving here. What could she remember? Ahh…yes…it was coming back to her.

After her escape from her stepmother in Wiltshire, Lily had tagged many rides to come to London. Being cold and hungry, when she saw that delicious delicacy of mutton pie, her mouth immediately became wet with saliva. And, being cold and hungry, she remembered slowly reaching out and grabbing one, putting it to her mouth…before a cry of "Thief!" Taking one more look at her dim surroundings, with no windows nor clean air, she came to the conclusion that she was in prison. Ah…yes…prison.

Her stomach ached with hunger. And what happened to the pasty? Well, despite her "stealing" it, it seemed to have never made it into her mouth, for just as the crumbling dish was placed to her mouth, the rampantly outraged shopkeeper chased her, yelling, "Varmint! Beast! Girl, come back here! Stealing food from honest people! I seen your kind around here!" And, Lily sighed, she remembered being dragged through the streets by the magistrates, looking at the pastry that was left far behind in the mean shopkeepers hands. She should have at least saved it for later, which in present terms meant now, and not be starving, like she was…right now.

Her eyes slid once again to the object, or objects, of her consternation, startled when realizing that the thing really was a large, disease-ridden rat. He was trapped in box and frantically trying to paw himself out, fruitlessly, of course.

"Don't you set your eyes on him missy! He's mine!" the owner of the voice shrieked.

"I beg your pardon?" inquired Lily, half-politely. Her voice sounded dry and cracked. How long has it been since she arrived here?

" 'Cuz he's mine. Mine. Mine. My rat," the old woman screeched. "My precious."

"He—He's your pet?" Lily asked, astounded.

"No, of course not sweetie." The woman's toothless mouth formed into a deranged smile. "He's my dinner! I'll feed him, yes, I'll feed him good, 'til he's nice and plump and fat, and then I'll eat him!"

Lily shuddered with revulsion.

"Oh, don't be such a lady, darlin'," the woman cackled. " 'Cuz you won't be for long. A month in here and you'll be happy to eat my precious too. Perhaps even your own leg."

"What is this place? Or where?"

"Why, darlin', you're in Clink Prison! 'Tis grandiose and famous, no? Haven't you ever been here before?"

Lily shook her head slowly. "I just arrived in London a few days ago, I'm assuming. How long have I been out?"

"An entire day, or maybe even two. They just threw you in here and in that position you stayed."

Lily tried to work out what date it was. She left her home, well, not home anymore, last Tuesday in early May, walked for four days, traveled in hay carts for one, before arriving in London and landing herself in prison. Alright, that was a start…

"So it's Sunday? And 'tis still May?"

"Nope, not Sunday. On Sunday, they give us meat and we hear the church bells. But other than Sunday, all other days are the same here. No tellin' the difference."

Suddenly, Lily heard a chorus of shouts outside, and bent over to hear it more clearly, her dark, luscious red hair falling over her shoulders. Eyes gleaming, the woman leaned over to touch her hair, but her touch was so filthy and dirty that Lily involuntarily backed away. The woman cackled. "Oh, don't mind me dearie. Your hair is lovely, red and shiny as ruby, very rare in these parts. You could sell that, you know." Her voice dropped several notches. "In fact, you still owe me a favor. The others would've cut off your hair while you was sleeping, but I stopped 'em. I stopped 'em you see."

"They were going to what?!" Lily cried in alarm, as she tried to tuck her hair back, but seeing as she had no cap, her hair just spilled back down in loose curls. She backed away hurriedly from the woman, who was now muttering something about how her hair would've fetched quite a few silver shillings.

Drawn to the noise coming from outside of the cell, Lily hugged the wall close to her body and edged towards the yard. There she saw several women, some hunched and some calling out to the people of the street. The ground beneath her feet felt gravelly and crunchy for some reason, and she nearly let out a horrific scream when she saw that her bare feet were stepping on lice, crunching them between her toes. They covered the entire ground, and Lily traced it back to several women who were itching and scratching. Her form shivered and reached out to comb her fingers through her head, as if combing out the lice.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly. How ironic, that she was stuck in one of London's most famous prisons on such a beautiful day. She squinted her eyes, and as she slowly became adjusted, she could make out several groups of women. There were as many as two hundred women and men just in the yard alone; many of the clusters were near the gate of the prison. The yard, Lily realized, was below ground level, and when two pairs of feet came into view, all of the groups started begging and crying for just a few pence. "Please, kind sir and madam, just a penny to spare! Just a penny!"

The owner of these pairs of legs paused, just for a moment, and stooped low for a just a moment, going straight on his way. Then, as Lily looked closer, she realized that the benevolent man had dropped a few bronze coins down, which explained why all the people were scrambling on the ground. Those who were lucky were elbowed continuously in hope that they would drop their "well-earned" prize.

One of the girls who had snatched up a coin came up to Lily and held it up to her, smiling. "A penny, 'tis but a penny…but even this penny will buy me three good fish for my evening tea tonight."

Lily smiled back at her, or at least whatever she could do, as she was absolutely faint from hunger. The girl looked about her seventeen years of age and looked nice, and though her dress was worn from the time in prison, it was nowhere near as dirty as anyone else's. In fact, she was the most sanitary looking being other than Lily herself in the prison.

"You're new here, aren't you?" the girl asked. "You came in yesterday, but you were sleeping so I didn't want to wake you."

Lily nodded, ruefully rubbing the large bump on her head. "I don't think I was sleeping, more like knocked how from the manhandling here, for when I awoke I remembered nothing, not even where I was."

"I'll bet you know where you are now."

"Yes, unfortunately," Lily answered, a little dejectedly.

The girl looked down at Lily's bare feet, which she tried unsuccessfully to hide, seeing as they were covered in broken lice parts. "They took your shoes off for money as well. You're lucky you had shoes, or they would've taken your clothes."

"What am I going to do without shoes then?"

"Oh, you'll get some after a while. Steal 'em or earn 'em!"

"Earn them?"

"Yes, like what I was just doing. You can say it's like a job."

Lily nodded politely, although she did not like the prospect of "earning" money that way. However, there were more pressing needs to be attended to. "When do we receive food?"

"You were asleep at midday—that's when they serve our bread—but…hold on," the girl said, turning around and walking to a nearby guardsman. She was gesticulating something that Lily couldn't figure out, but sure enough, after a few moments, the girl returned with a slice of bread…if it could be called bread. Grey and hard, the bread was more like a piece of rock, but Lily supposed if any, now was not the time to be picky, so she fell upon the bread as if attacking it.

The girl laughed lightly. "If you hang around with me, I'll let you have one of my fish later."

Lily nodded, gratefully, but kept on eating.

"And…I think I'd like to have you has a friend, seeing as if you're around my own age. If you want to of course…I'd love to share what I little I have left with you."

"With all my heart, I would love to be friends with you," Lily said, feeling, finally, a reprieve that was long overdue..

* * *

Anyways! Here's the quote of the day!

"Life is short, so have at it!"

Totally applies to me. Sometimes, I get so caught up in school that I forget that it isn't the most important thing in life. Just words of wisdom.

And here is a question relating to Harry Potter of course!

Unscramble these words to form two new words.

PAUSES NERVES

Good luck! I'll post the answer up next time!

charismaticsilver


	2. Chapter 2

The Extraordinary Life and Times of

Lily Evans

_**Disclaimer**_: I forgot to type in something last time, but first, the credit of this story goes to Mary Hooper and J.K. Rowling. Mary Hooper's The Remarkable Life and Times of Eliza Rose got me onto this plot (make note: it's her plot, not mine), and J.K. Rowling made up most of the characters in this story. However, there are some historical people.

Also!!! To those of you who have read the book or will read it: although the plot is based on the Eliza Rose book, there will be changes in the course of the story, some to make it match more of the Harry Potter theme, and others because I wanted them to happen in the book. In addition, there will be differences in the characters of Harry Potter. Weird relationships will be established, and I know that Voldemort plays one of the most important roles in the actually Harry Potter books, but this story isn't Harry Potter. So, to fit in with what I want my story to turn out like, I will give him a smaller role in the course of the story.

* * *

Chapter 2 

Turned out, the girl's name was Molly, and she also had red hair, but a much more vibrant color, and freckles dotted her tiny face. She thought she was around sixteen, only one year younger than Lily herself.

" 'Cuz I remember that it was four years ago when my momma had my brother, Rob, really close to my birthday," she remarked that night, "and she told me I was twelve years old that day. I still remember it, 'cuz he was actually one of the ones that lived."

"One of the ones?"

"Yeah, in my family, we have seven people, and we have plenty dead too—around six I think. I'm not quite sure, seeing that I'm one of the younger ones in the middle. Most of them died before I was born, though I do remember one of my older sisters faintly. My momma died on the very first day of May with my fourteenth sibling, and while people were out celebrating, my whole family was weeping." She hurriedly wiped away the stubborn tears that fell down. Lily could do no more than place a comforting hand around her.

The prisoners were all inside the actual cell now, and Lily was not too particularly surprised to see it overflowing. After all, London is sort of like a rat's nest; all sorts of people were known to gather there. In fact, it was so overflowing with people that many could not find the space to lie down, despite the mats of straw that were placed in the room. Molly, and some others who had earned the money to, would pay the guards to get a small cot and guarded their precious space ferociously. It was unacceptable to have other people sit or place their belongings even on the edge of the bunk. Only near the water was space widely distributed, for the water carried stenches of urine and trash with it. The odorous area was partially because people would flush the buckets full of waste into the river, which would in turn flow into the Thames. There were literally no ways of washing oneself in the river, which shed light on why the women of the prison were so filthy.

"You haven't been here long, have you Molly?" Lily asked, almost shyly. "You seem much…better groomed than most of the people here."

"I've been here for almost three weeks now," Molly said. "But I've grown smart in the ways of the prison. Let me tell you something, a pretty face, like yours for instance, would go a long way in our daily job. I've been renting this bed to sleep on and having good food to eat from the money that I earn during the day; I know the worth of a charming smile to a gentleman and I rarely get less than two pence a day." She took off her cap and gestured to her low ponytail. "And I always have my hair pulled back, for fear of attracting lice or flees."

Lily unconscious fingered her long hair, and tried not to think about what could be crawling in them now. After all, she had no cap or something to hold her hair tight with. "And, what did you get imprisoned for? Was it like me, that you were too hungry?"

"Too hungry? Nah…I stole from my mistress, only what I deserved though!" she added hastily, seeing Lily's surprised face. "I broke my back for her for two whole years, and not a cent was paid to me. So one day, while she was out on a trip, I took down some of her curtains and sold the fabric to a fabric maker for some money. I didn't even get that much money and I certainly didn't think she'd notice."

"But she did?"

"No, she didn't. That backstabbing son of a fabric maker double-crossed me and squealed on me for even more money than he paid me! May that dumb 'ole git die a thousand deaths before he finds peace!"

Lily nodded feverently. "I agree, if it was what you were owed in the first place. But how long are you to stay in here? Surely not long."

"I dunno," Molly replied with half a frown. "The prison here is so messed up that anything's possible. I suppose when the judge is feeling alright he'll let me out, that is, if his belly's full and his coin pouch is stuffed to the brim."

"That hardly seems fair. I suppose that means I'm to be in here for an indeterminable amount of time as well, for stealing a pasty, nonetheless. And I didn't even eat it!" Lily cried loudly, protesting the unfairness of the situation.

"Ah, so that was your offense. The system here isn't fair at all. You have money, you go free. You don't, you stay. That's the way everything works around here. Money makes the world go round. But, anyway, why are you here in London? You're accent seems a little out of place. Are you from Wiltshire?" Molly inquired.

"Yes, I do come from Wiltshire…" she hesitated slightly, but Molly caught on quite quickly.

"It's alright. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I ask a lot of questions natural, I'm a right sort blabbermouth," Molly reassured her.

"No, it's alright," Lily replied. "I'm actually in London to find my father."

"He left your momma?"

"No, he's a trader, so every season he travels somewhere different. Just my luck that he's come to London this time." She paused again, thinking how to word her next few sentences. "Since I left my stepmother, all I could think about was him, to find him and to tell him what that cruel witch said to me, well maybe not cruel witch, but at least she's not the kind witch either. She actually kicked me out of the house, telling me that I was no longer welcome there."

"That witch!" Molly said, enthusiastically joining up with Lily's outrage.

"So I want to find him and tell him what she said to me, and have him take me back home. She has no right to throw me out onto the streets, even if I'm not her daughter! What if my mum knew? She'd be turning in her grave." Catching Molly's look, she quickly explained, "My mum died a few years back from a flood, but I hear from Father that she was beautiful and kindhearted. But there was just too much disease that came with the flood, so she didn't make it. And then Father remarried my stepmother, leaving her in charge of me and my brothers."

"And did she throw them out on the street as well?"

Lily shook her head. "No, that's what puzzles me. They're older than me, yet, I don't see her even trying to put them out of a house." Why had her physically and mentally more mature brothers not been asked to leave when she had?

"Maybe you looked to much like your mum, so your stepmother couldn't stand you! It's like a classic fairytale, for you are ever so lovely," Molly said excitedly.

"Lovely? Me? No! And besides, I heard that my mum had a shade of light wheat-colored hair and was short with blue eyes. In fact, I don't seem to have taken on any of her features at all. Except apparently my nose," Lily said.

"Well my word then!" Molly said. "I can only come to the conclusion that your stepmum is an obnoxious git, who is selfish and petty, and did I say mention terribly obnoxious?"

"Molly!" Lily said, surprised yet pleased with this character analysis on her stepmother.

"Well, she is," Molly shrugged.

Laughing, Lily almost forgot her surroundings for the first time that day. Yet, there was something else that she had not mentioned to Molly, something that her stepmother had said to her before she left. It weighed heavily on her mind…but she would ponder about it after a while.

As they continued to chat away, the guards came in with the good and began to distribute it to each of the prisoners. The herring, pigeon pies, eggs, and seafood all went to their separate owners, with a tip to the guard of course. As the prisoners who had enough money to order got their food, the other half of the prisoners started wailing an awful racket, pounding on the cell bars and the ground, demanding food as well. The guards quickly became tired of the noise, and came back with hot water poured into iron cups that were chained to the walls. Molly also informed Lily that there was oatmeal inside the cups, to which Lily was surprised, because she could see no such thing.

As the women were eating, Lily noticed that an odd metal contraption was fixed above a woman's head. Molly enlightened Lily about a scold's bridle.

"She can hardly breathe or eat, and she most definitely can't talk. She's been here for about a week, and will be released tomorrow," Molly said, looking at Lily's horrified expression at the metal head cage. "I heard her husband put her in here because he says that he can't stand her complaining, something about not being able to sleep right."

Lily just nodded sadly, reminded of how men dominated society at this time.

As soon as the cups were sucked dry of their semi-oatmeal concoction, a guard came around, ringing a bell, and extinguishing the candles, calling for bedtime. Lily looked around in the semi-darkness of the cell, and began to feel frightened of what adventures the night would. Where was her sleeping space in a cell full of women criminals? It seemed that all women were placed here despite their crimes, from stealing pastry (herself, obviously) to murder. And besides, there was no room. The only spaces left were the ones by the river and the ones by the rat's nests. What kind of creatures would crawl over her tonight? However, swallowing her fears (as she didn't want to seem intrusive), she bid Molly a goodnight kindly and prepared to go.

"You don't need to go!" Molly said at once. "Stay here on my cot with me. You can even share my blanket!"

Lily stopped, indecisive.

"I insist!"

"But…I can't pay you back, I've got nothing," Lily protested weakly, sitting back down anyways.

"It's okay. You still have plenty of time to pay me back," persuaded Molly. "Besides," she added, reaching over to touch Lily's hair, "I bet if you pinch your cheeks for a bit of color and let your hair loose, you could pay yourself out of here in no time at all."

"You can really buy anything here?"

"Well, practically anything." Molly unfolded a gray-coated blanket. "You can buy food and living space, and privacy, and even a maid—but you would probably receive second hand clothes and moldy blankets, like the one I have now." She gestured to her greasy, slime covered blanket. "You would probably receive broken shoes and smelly sock, but it does get dreadfully cold here during the night."

Lily nodded, pulling the blanket up a little. Despite all the teachings of Molly, she can't help but remember in her mind's eye the image of the grease and the slime on the blanket. Oh! Where was her feather bed and blanket back at home? Was it still her home?

"Oh, and Lily, pray that it doesn't rain tonight."

"Why? What happens when it rains?"

"The river rises and basically floods, pouring all the waste and garbage. Those who find themselves without a cot to sleep on are usually dead with the trash in the morning. Either that or they find themselves sleeping in feces."

Lily gasped and trembled

"But," Molly continued cheerfully, "it doesn't look like it's going to rain tonight, so your smelly bath will have to wait until another day!"

Lily could only smile and nod, eternally grateful that she met this girl named Molly.

* * *

"It's not technically begging," Molly argued. "It's our work. We're working." She looked at Lily heatedly. "You're gonna starve if you don't do it!" 

Lily sat in the corner of the cot both of them shared the night before, feeling tired, cranky, and close to tears. Last night had been one of the most awful nights Lily could ever remember, despite having a friend and a blanket. The sounds of wailing and sobbing in the cells were ceaseless and led Lily to stay up all night. And it wasn't just continual wailing, it was punctual and jabbed the silent night like a knife, like they just realized where they were. Women who rose to relieve themselves tripped over the buckets, swearing loudly, and the guards on night patrol would jangle their keys loudly as if the prisoners were not even there. All this combined with the retching smells and lurid sounds made it impossible for Lily to sleep.

"Tis impossible to live here! I don't know how you stand it," Lily said tiredly.

"You stand it because you don't have a choice in the matter," Molly replied, looking older than her years. "You shall get adjusted to this way of living, quite soon in fact."

Lily found to her horror that she was tearing up. "I don't think I ever shall!"

Molly reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, slightly bent comb. "Well, let's think about what you'll do when you get out. How do you plan to find this father of yours?"

Lily glanced up at her and shrugged. She only hastily thought to get to London; her plan didn't go further than that.

"Well, as he's a tradesman, you can see if you can find him at the central market. That's where all of the traders go this time of year." Molly also removed her cap and began combing her hair. "But what will you say to him when you see him? Can you be sure he's not like your stepmother?"

"Of course he's not! He cannot be!" Lily ruled out the thought immediately, more out of fear than conviction. "He's a very just man…and he's my father!" She couldn't imagine anyone else acting as her father.

"Well, if she's actually as wicked as you make her out to be…"

Lily thought back to the last conversation she had with her stepmother. "Well, since I'm no longer welcome here, I just go and find my father. He'll set you straight when he finds out how you've been treating me!" Lily shot to her stepmother. "He won't let you treat me this way!"

"Oh? And how can you be sure of that?" her stepmother asked with a crooked smile. "Are you absolutely sure that he wouldn't agree with me?"

Lily's heart caught in her throat. There was just something about the way that she asked that question that made Lily pause in her defense. However, she tried not to think to much as she prepared her belongings.

"Yes, quite sure, in fact," she said, walking out the door.

Her stepmother followed her out onto the front porch and couldn't resist tearing her down once more. "When you find him, you'll also find that I'm speaking the truth. I tell no lies!" she declared. "He no longer wants an ugly duckling!"

An ugly duckling…those words have stayed with her the whole time on the trip. But what did it imply? Lily, who had a fair amount of self-confidence, knew that she was nowhere near as ugly as some, yet why would her stepmother twist the words like that? As curious as she was, she could not swallow her pride to ask her stepmother.

"Come on," Molly murmured after she put away her comb. Heavens forbid she have a single strand of hair out of place. "I'll comb your hair again, and then we'll go out to work! We'll get an early start, before the others wake up."

Lily started to argue, but seeing as Molly ignored her, she desisted and turned around for Molly to comb her hair.

"Your hair is so lovely, with gentle waves and lush curls!" she commented enthusiastically. "It's so long too! Waist long and glistening from the outside world. 'Twill look lovely in the sunlight." She turned Lily to face her again and made sounds of approval. Carefully, she put several strands of dark red hair around her face to emphasize her lovely green eyes. "There, our great King Charles would go for you!"

"Do not exaggerate," Lily berated, although biting back a pleased smile.

"I do not!" Molly protested. "Your eyes are so leafy green!"

"Uh…thanks."

Molly smiles as she put away the comb; in place, she took out a small bottle from her dress pocket. "A good-bye present from my mistress," she said with a wink, "although she doesn't know it yet." She painstakingly applied the red to her lips and spread it so that it covered all of her mouth. Then she applied some for Lily and added some to her cheeks as well.

"Hmm…'tis still not red enough. Pinch your cheeks a bit," she said, smudging a bit of dirt on her cheek to emphasize the effect. She nodded in satisfaction as Lily did as she was bid. "Alright, let's see the attention we get today."

Molly led Lily to the edge of the yard by the fence. Many people passed by—first a group of women, whom Molly said to ignore because they are only jealous and not sympathetic to pretty faces—then farmers—whom, again, Molly said to ignore because they are too poor—all up until Lily caught sight of three young men, looking to be a maximum of three years older than her, wearing ruffled breeches and matching velvet coats. Molly pinched her side and Lily yelped, catching the three's attention.

"Here come some young rich boys living off of their forefathers after a night of horsing around," Molly whispered to Lily. "Speak up and smile prettily."

"Uh…" As Lily stared at the young men, who continued walking, she became intimidated. After all, such rich nobles, surely they wouldn't pay attention to her." Yet she inhaled deeply… "Please sirs, spare a penny for two unfortunate maids!"

The three paused and Molly elbowed her to keep talking.

"We…we haven't had any food for days and are absolutely dieing of starvation!" she continued, blushing redder than her hair.

The youth in green velvet only spared them a contemptuous glance before continuing on his way, and the one in purple looked too drunk to put a sentence together coherently, but the one in maroon stopped. Lily looked at him nervously and he smiled back. Such a fine mouth, Lily thought dreamily, and such hazy toffee eyes. She suddenly became ashamed that she was begging in front of, and from, one such as he.

"James! Hurry up, man," the one in green called to him, with an air of impatience. "You'll catch a disease from standing next to them."

"Sire, if you could just…spare one coin, sire!" Lily cried desperately in a whisper, more to keep him around than for the money itself. She felt sweat prickle the back of her neck, even though it was no where near hot, as the sun was just rising. "We really are truly hungry."

Molly, who had been turned to the side, suddenly turned around and looped an arm around Lily, joining in the chorus. "Oh, gracious sire, my sister and I are poor, unfortunate souls who have just had the worst luck. Our stepfather wanted to sell us to a slave ship for stealing a scrap of bread because she had starved us, but we ran away and landed ourselves here by no fault of ours!"

"James! James Potter, you fool! Hurry up!" cried the youth in green.

The one in red just smiled at the girls. "Please, enough," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Anymore and I'd have to challenge your stepfather to a duel." He threw them a gold coin. "Take it, and pray tell, do buy some food for yourselves, for I cannot even bear to see such beautiful ladies being lowered such as yourselves."

"Oh, thank you sire!" Molly gasped, poking Lily.

"Y-yes, thank you sire! And may our good God bless you!" Lily stuttered, as she chanced one last look at the youth in green, the one they called James.

"Wow, a gold coin!" Molly squealed excitedly as the other now-risen women pushed them out of their place. "Now, wasn't that easy Lily? All you have to do is smile prettily and wind up some sorry, down-in-luck story, though you can't be too exaggerated, and voila! I must say, even the King's Theatre couldn't have done better than us!"

Lily, now out of her stupor, giggled. "If everyone was like him, we'd be well-off in no time!"

"We can have clams now, everyday for breakfast for the rest of the month! In fact, we could have more than just clams…buttermilk muffins, pastries, pies…mmm…" Molly sighed happily, running over the gold coin with her hands. "Or we can even buy our own cell and pay to have our clothes washed!"

"Yes, a cap for my head too—but first and foremost, shoes!" Lily grimaced, looking down at her feet. "I really can't stand feeling the lice in between my toes anymore."

* * *

After many days, Lily learned how to pass prison life in the most comfortable manner. She did buy her own shoes from a guard, as well as a scarf and hat. Molly joked at her, saying that the items were passed down to her from a lady that had recently been burned at the stake, but since Lily did not know her, it did not matter to her. She also "loaned" her own blanket, but still chose to sleep with Molly because of the comfort of a familiar body; both of them were used to sharing a bed with siblings, so the extra warmth and familiar-ness was welcomed. Lily's tiredness from her long days "work" also allowed her to sleep through the night now, without waking up to the moans of the other prisoners. Begging at the bars became a routine, and subconsciously, Lily was always on the lookout for the young man, James, in the maroon vest, but he never came again. 

One Sunday morning (it was the day that the prisoners received meat), Molly was all of a sudden called to be on trial with fifteen or so other prisoners. Chained together, they did not return for the entire day, and Lily, looking at the weepy face of Molly, could only watch through the bars as they led her away. The entire day, she begged extra hard to acquire more money for the both of them. And she did work hard. Smiling cheerily, her "please, sirs" earned her two shillings. She sent a guard out for apple pie and turkey soup, a special treat for the both of them.

However, when Molly returned, she took no notice of the food, but was crying profusely, and was not to be consoled. Lily feared the very worst from this reaction; three of the ones who went to trial with Molly were sentenced to the nooses to be hanged. This news had spread faster than any other so far, and even before the prisoners returned, Lily had already heard.

"I'm being sent to America, to one of the colonies as a plantation worker," she sobbed into Lily's shoulder. "I'm one of the eight to be sent to Jamestown because the judge claimed that he wanted to make an example out of us!"

"What? America?" Lily cried. "Just because you took some fabric, which was supposed to be yours anyways?"

Molly nodded her tear-streaked face. "The thief in front of me was to be branded, and another had his hand cut off!" Lily gasped in alarm, but Molly continued, "I would rather have any of those punishments than my own cruel one! To be taken across oceans to plantations! I'm a common slave!"

Lily tried to console her. "I've heard that the land is very beautiful and new. 'Tis a place for new beginnings."

"You have, have you? Well, let me tell you what I've heard! I've heard 'tis a wild place, with uncivilized people mixed with wilderbeasts!" Molly burst out crying again. "And most of the people die just trying to get to the stupid place!"

Lily, who indeed heard the same, kept silent and cried with her a bit more. No one slept that night.

* * *

The next morning, one of the guard called out the names loudly. "Becky Knight, Rose Hart, Grace Richards, Molly…" 

"What for sir? Surely not for transportation so soon?" one of the prisoners asked.

"You heard it!" the guard answered.

"Surely not!" Molly wailed, pushing away her weak oatmeal. "Not so soon!"

Lily turned to the nearby guard. "Is it right this minute? Are you really coming for them this early in the morning?"

"You heard him! They'll be taken in irons down to the riverside where they're to be shipped to the colonies," the guard nodded.

"No!" Molly desperately called out. "I can't go yet—I haven't said goodbye to my family! Heavens, I haven't even seen my family, please sir, spare me!" When the guard's expression didn't change, Molly changed strategies. "Please sir, I do not feel well at all! Let me see the judge again and plead my case! I'll die on the journey in my condition!"

But the guard had already moved on to the men's cell. "Charles Pinmont, Edward Hertington, Arthur Weasly, Amos…" they heard him call, also hearing protests and arguments from the prisoners.

Molly, after banging her iron bowl on the table, sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, and Lily joined her when the situation finally sank in.

"Shhh, come Molly, there's nothing to be done," she whispered quietly, patting down the younger girl's hair. She put her arm around Molly, seeking comfort words. "It's not that bad, really," she began. "Many people actually pay their way to the colonies for a new life and new beginning. There, you won't have any crimes to your name…you can start anew!"

Molly just cried harder. "I'll never survive the journey! I'll never see sunlight again once I'm on the ship!"

"No, you will survive," Lily replied firmly, looking into Molly's crazed eyes. "In fact, you'll do more than survive. You will charm everyone you meet, and probably run away with a sailor on the boat. You'll receive extra rations because of your charm and attention because of your looks. Perhaps, you'll grow rich on the plantation, and when you come back, you'll hire me as your maid!"

But Molly refused to see any positive sides to the issue. "I committed no crime, and now I'm to be sent of to some wild place—I'll never see momma or poppa or any of my siblings ever again!" She rocked back and forth on the floor. "I should have pleaded with child!"

"No good, child," a woman next to them commented. "That only saves you from the gallows, not the journey. You're destined to be sent off, no use avoiding it now."

Lily wrapped her arms around Molly, who seemed so fragile at the moment. She was scared of what would happen to Molly and herself, once Molly was gone.

Within ten minutes, the guard was back, this time to actually collect the prisoners, and Molly, along with two others, were fitted with iron chains. Lily took that time to open her scarf and pull out some money.

" 'Tis only twenty pence, but it may buy you some comfort on the boat too," Lily said, giving Molly the money.

"I won't need it!" Molly burst out. "I'll never survive anyways!" She looked filled with grief. "Never…never…"

Lily was also too distressed to speak, and could only watch in silence as they took the weeping Molly away from her. She pressed tearfully up to the bars of the prison as her only friend was dragged away, and assuming that she would never hear from her dearest friend again, could only cry silently.

* * *

See? This chapter is longer! But it does take a while to type, so to keep my morale up...heehee, you know what to do... 

"Deliver me from writers who say the way they live doesn't matter. I'm not sure a bad person can write a good book. If art doesn't make us better, then what on earth is it for?"

Alice Walker

And here is the question of the day!

_**The creature 'hippocampus' is mentioned in 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' and is also said to pull the chariot of Poseidon, the God of the sea. This beast is meant to be half sea creature and half...**_

_**A. Lion**_

_**B. Human**_

_**C. Horse**_

_**D. Bird**_

And the answer to the question last time was Severus Snape.

I'll post the answer to this one up next time. )

charismaticsilver


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: All right, again with the disclaimer. I am meticulous in putting one on every chapter so that people get the clue that this is very similar to the story by Mary Hooper because it is based off of that story. Also, the characters, although some are historical, belong mainly to J.K. Rowling. So please, do not tell me I'm copying a book, because I know I am. But, also, just so everyone knows, I will be changing many things too, but the beginning of the story will match up to the book. You can think of it as a parallel, okay?

And by the way, the answer to the question from last time…the answer is horse. And I suppose it was kind of obvious (no offense meant to those who did not answer correctly) because the horse is Poseidon's animal. Holy and beloved to the god of the seas. So, of course, Poseidon wouldn't dream of letting dirty 'ole humans pull is chariot, nor birds. Lions could've been a possibility, but really, lions weren't that important to the gods.

So congrats to laughingmaniac and grantinme for getting it right! And I wish I could offer more than a congratulation, but unfortunately…being downright broke and this being over the internet, there's not much I can offer but that ).

* * *

_Chapter 3_

Time passed quickly, and it continually grew more stifling hot. Everyday, although she loathed it for becoming a chore, Lily stood outside in the yard and begged. It was growing increasingly harder to get enough money to have the "luxuries" that she did because her appearance—though still fresher than some—was quickly fading and blending in with the rest of the prisoners, despite her attempts for cleanliness and sanitation.

Molly was sorely missed, but Lily decided not to make any new friends, for she quickly found out that the rest of the prisoners were selfish gits, pardon the word, and would desperately resort to violence and thievery. Many of the girls saw how well Lily was getting by and tried to make friends with her to receive some of that money as well, but seeing how unwilling Lily was, the girls resorted to discrete elbowing and kicking, as well as midnight stealing. As careful as Lily was, she found herself in that position many times, and sad to say, it was becoming worse.

Not a day went by when Lily did not think of when she would be out of the dump of a prison. It especially became more frequent when Molly left, and Lily kept asking herself, 'When will I get out?' But surely, she reassured herself daily, it couldn't be long. After all, all she did was steal a pasty. Some others were in here for murder and treachery to their masters. Surely her crime was not as bad as that!

No, of course it was not as bad! The judge most definitely will consider her circumstances, her tale of woe, all emanating from her ignorant stepmother. What does she know anyhow? Maybe she would get a job, after she got out, of course, selling flowers or becoming a maid. There's only so many ways an inexperienced girl can get a job, and she shuddered, half of those ways definitely did not serve as on option. She also shrank back at the idea of knocking door to door, begging for a job.

There was that word again, begging. It seems everything she did lately was some sort of begging. It made her sick to leech, no…rely… on other people like that. It wasn't like she was helpless, just in a bit of a wreck. And she shuddered again at thinking about doing a menial and pointless task. It would be awful to work as a digger for digging and planting crops. It only Molly was still here; she always knew what to do.

One morning, as Lily was readying her hair, she heard a roar coming from outside in the neighboring men's prison, spreading until the women in her cell were chanting along with them. Faintly, she could make out the words, "Claude Duval…Claude Duval…Claude Duval…" They shouted the name over and over again, and even began banging their iron cups on the table in rhythm. "Claude Duval…Claude Duval…"

The vim with what they chanted increased Lily's curiosity. "What are they saying," she asked a nearby woman.

"Can't you tell, dearie?" the woman loomed. "They sayin' the name of the infamous highwayman."

"Claude Duval?"

She nodded. "The one and only. The most famous one in the whole of England, apart from Sirius Black, of course."

This only caused more consternation for Lily. "But why are they chanting his name?"

The woman frowned slightly. "Why, he's been sentenced to hang, sugar. He's goin' from this here prison to hang in the gallows of the Tyburn tree."

Lily inhaled sharply for that she had heard of—Tyburn tree, the most famous hanging site in England, known for hanging up to fifteen men, or women, at one time.

"He's to be taken out when the they ring the bell to do the Tyburn frisk. And how entertained we'll be, for he's not one to go without havin' the last word…or dance, I suppose…but don't worry sweetin'. 'Tis not that bad. Duval's last will and testament are to have all his belongings, and mind you, he's rich, that 'un, are to be sold and divided for everyone in every prison in England to get a portion of steak and wine. And the rest of his money's to go to the poor, so good for him, I say."

Lily gasped, and looked at her distastefully. Imagine what prison does to you, for one to not have any sympathy nor compassion for a man such as he.

Before she joined the rest of the prisoners in the yard to watch the hanging, Lily tried harder to straighten up her appearance. Now it was even more important to her to look nice. Not only might she earn a shilling or two, but the great Claude Duval deserved the greatest respect she could give, she concluded. She tried to untangle her now filthy and oily hair that had once been rich auburn. Now it was more of a dirty brown color, thanks to the mud and lack of baths. She no longer looked a lady, but a gypsy, she sighed. Not that that was an awful thing. Gypsies are awfully talented in thievery, and they usually have nice, thick, dark hair.

She no longer looked in hopes for the youth in maroon; on the contrary, she dreaded his coming and seeing her in this state of filth. What an embarrassment she would be.

When she made her way outside, she realized that the crowds were all gathered already. She could not see a single distinct figure up front, but rather a mass of figures configured into a single blob. Those that were in the same boat as her constantly pestered those in front of them on the status of the outside crowd and Claude Duval.

"The crowds stretch further than the eye," said a young man to Lily. His face was ridden with little pox scars. "Rumor has it that all the seats to witness the hanging have been full for weeks."

"Does he not have impunity?" Lily asked.

"Impunity? Which commoner ever has it? Only the nobles are granted that," the man replied.

"He's very well-known then?"

"The most famous of the famous. As excellent and benevolent highwayman there ever was. And he's evaded capture of the nobles for over fifteen years! Only was caught two days ago, but the constables were afraid of him 'disappearing', so they sentenced his hanging as soon as they caught him. But he has stolen the hearts of many young ladies, such as yourself," he continued. "Although, probably not as many as Sirius Black."

It was that name again, one of which Lily had never heard the likes of. Perhaps Wiltshire was too far from London for all the gossip to be reached there.

"Oh? And is he in the Clink as well?"

"Never!" the youth cried, admiringly. "The intrepid Sirius Black shall never be caught, especially not by the likes of the fat constables!"

Lily could only nod in response as the crowd broke out in a roar. It was quick, that was all she could remember afterwards. As Duval was carted away to the gallows, the women began crying and the men shouting in protest. The mob seemed to move with him, as if supporting his lone figure upon their many shoulders. Duval was also given many roses and silk handkerchiefs as a sign of endearment.

"He'll be back, you know," the fellow said.

"Pardon me? Is he to have a reprieve?"

"Oh no, he's coming back to London as a on-looker."

"I'm afraid I don't see the humor in your jest," Lily replied, succinctly.

"Ha! You're from elsewheres then? Well, then you wouldn't know. Let me enlighten you. Claude Duval has committed first-degree felony. Therefore, after the hanging, his head will be shipped back here and put on a stake for all to see! It's a warning," he added. "For all the other highwaymen."

On seeing Lily's terrified face, he threw back his head in laughter, causing Lily to slowly edge away from him. She raced inside and curled up into a ball, feeling very much about to vomit. It was definitely the lucid subject, she convinced herself, not jail fever. There had been several cases of the illness in the prison, and three have died from it. Even the hearing have been postponed because the judges to not care to be "contaminated by filth".

A cold led to death, a slow and deteriorating death. And in prison, she was not sure she would have time to convalesce. However, the next morning, Lily felt much better, and did not think much of it. Later, the rumors became facts, and all of the Clink was in a panic. On tiny cough could get you charted off to the infirmary, which was not a pleasant experience in itself, or so she had heard.

Yet, it was also growing harder and harder to keep healthy and clean, making it harder to earn money. She had noticed that her grimy face and filthy hands had gotten less and less money, while the newer faces attracted all the "customers". She had to stop herself many times from scratching her head from the flea and lice bites. So, in order to keep the attention on herself, she worked out a little song.

'Have mercy on a gentle soul,

Piece by piece becoming whole,

If I cry a lonely tear,

Whom shall pity the maiden dear?"

Of course, Lily had stage fright at first, but seeing that it was the only way for her to keep alive in her current condition, she had no choice but to overcome that attention, and quickly. And it wasn't for naught, for she did earn more money, but even more satisfaction she earned when seeing the bitter faces of the newer girls. Oh how vicious she had become! Gloating in others' misery…seeing this, Lily squashed down those thoughts and focused once more on surviving.

One evening, as the sun was just setting, she began her solo yet again, and a stout old man came by and paused as he heard Lily's voice. When Lily finished, the man began clapping enthusiastically.

"Yes, that was wonderful, m'dear!" he said.

Lily looked at him, and nodded her silent thanks. Seeing as the man would not give her anything, she turned to make her way back into the cell when he called her back.

"Encore!" he cheered. "I do believe that is what the young people say on stage these days, am I right?"

Lily felt a peck of annoyance. She was in a prison; how would she know what 'young people' are saying these days, much less in theatres? She wondered if it would be rude of her to walk back into the cell now; the man seemed to want to have a conversation with her.

"You're a lovely young lady, there's no mistake," the man said. "Or, you were, before you went to prison that is." He bent all the way down to the cell opening and peered into Lily's face. "Are those _green_ eyes?"

Lily stepped back, startled and embarrassed, nodding.

"Ah! Such a combination! And such lovely red locks as well. You seem a faerie, or an angel. And you have the voice of one too. As mesmerizing as a siren's."

Lily could only nod politely, but really, she had heard quite enough and bid her farewell to the gentleman.

"Wait!" the he called to Lily's retreating figure. "I have seen you singing for a while, and I have taken up quite a bit of your time. Why don't you take this silver shilling, and go buy yourself some food?"

Lily looked up, surprised. Apparently this man was rich as well as crazy. "Thank you," she answered, reaching up through the bars to take the coin. "I…am truly grateful."

"Sing again tomorrow, and we'll have another nice conversation like today's." The gentleman straightened his tattered vest and pants. "I won't have wasted your time, no. You'll not regret that you met Old Horace Slughorn."

* * *

And he really did come back, the following evening in fact. He motioned for Lily to get closer. "I like to help girls like yourself," he began as if it was self-explanatory. As Lily frowned in consternation, he continued, "Look, plain and simple. How would you like to come live with me and my daughters?" 

"Live with…your daughters?" Lily asked.

"Well, yes, my girls and my daughters," he chuckled. "Wouldn't you like to come live with us?"

Lily was confused with what he meant. "Live with you? As a servant, a maid? Or perhaps a cook?"

"What? A cook? Heavens no! I would treat you as my own child," Old Horace Slughorn scoffed. "So, what do you think of that idea?"

"Um…" Lily hesitated. "I'm not staying in London at all. I've only come to find my father and then we'll both go back home."

"Of course, dear. All in due time. But first you must get out of this awful prison, wouldn't you say?"

Lily stared at him for a long time. Who was this old gentleman that could whisk her out of prison on a whim? And what was the cost? Yet…she could be free. Oh! It felt like years since she had been living her own life…

"Do you know how to get me out?" Lily inquired.

The fellow pointed at himself. "Leave it to me. It'll be done by dusk tomorrow. What's your name, love?"

"Lily," she replied, turning to go back into the prison as the bell rang for nine-o'clock curfew. She turned her head slightly and could still make out the silhouette of the huge bulk that was Horace Slughorn, and couldn't help but be excited. By tomorrow she would be free! Never to step foot into this prison again. Yet she did have some fears; after all, he was a man. What if--? And how did she know that he actually had daughters? Old Horace Slughorn was either a kind person or crazy, or, more terrifying, a person that wanted to use her. But which was it? If only Molly were here…

* * *

Lily began to lose hope. Already, the last of the sun's rays were shining overhead. She had sung her plea all day, waiting anxiously for something to happen, but she was disappointed. Nothing occurred. Perhaps Slughorn forgot about her, and she chided herself for ever putting faith into that man. 

There were more people out in the yard today than normal, and as she sang, she was elbowed in the stomach viciously.

"Get out o' me way!" the woman snarled ferociously. "Leave it up to your betters to earn sun' money!"

Lily moved out of the way quickly, as she did not want to get into a prison brawl with a woman such as that, thick and fat. She also knew that wounds were difficult to heal in prison, what with lack of sanitation and attention, bruises might be seen on her face for weeks after. And as for breaking a limb, she might as well be crippled for life, as a broken bone rarely mended correctly in prison. Just as she turned to go into the cell, a booming cry sounded in the air.

"Lily, Lily my dear, sweet child! Is that you?"

Lily turned around with everyone else in the yard, such was Old Horace Slughorn's voice carrying quality. She fumbled, as she did not know what to do.

"My dear child!" he boomed. "Brutalized! Just look at her, oh! My poor sister's child! Do you not remember your own _uncle_?" He emphasized the last word, leaving no room for doubt.

"Yes! It is I uncle!" she said, meekly.

"Then come here so I can examine you, dear child." As he made a motion to examine her through the prison bars, he quickly explained, "You were captured by a slave ship…" And he straightened. "Well, I will see the judge this very instance and straighten everything out."

Lily could only stand there, puzzled, but true to his word, Slughorn returned in a few minutes with the bailiff at his side. "There she is, my poor niece," he said, confidently.

"So," the bailiff scrutinized. "What happened to you? Did you at one point live with this man?"

"With my uncle? No, but I was to, after my mother was killed. My stepfather had no legal custody of me, as they never married. But once my mother was killed, he exposed himself and sold me onto a slave ship! I only managed to just escape…" she let her sentence end with a muffled sob. Behind the bailiff, Slughorn nodded enthusiastically at her.

"Just as I said man!" Slughorn interrupted. "This is my poor sister's child; my sister got into a bit of a dilemma, but I have complete custody of the child from that bastard of a monster her man whore was. It was such a shock to see her here, when I thought her to be lost!"

"And what was your offense child?" the bailiff asked.

"I—I stole a pasty out of hunger, sire," she answered back, sweetly.

"He starved her!" Slughorn said indignantly. He fished out a fat emerald pouch from his pocket. "I have some of her savings, good sir. I was going to use it to buy her from the slave ship, but maybe now, it'll do some good here." As he spoke, he expertly maneuvered the pouch in front of the bailiff, and as Lily blinked, the pouch disappeared with a swish of cloth.

"I think we have reached an understanding. You may leave now," the bailiff said quickly,

And they did leave, Slughorn wobbling his way, and Lily, elated, bouncing her way, down the streets of London.

* * *

"Uncle Slughorn is coming back tonight with some folk," Bertha said to Lily. "He told me to tell you to stay in the room." 

"Why," Lily sighed. "do I have to?"

Bertha didn't reply. She was younger than Lily by approximately four or five years, and was the real grandniece of Horace Slughorn. She would have been a pretty little girl, had it not been for the disfiguration on the side of her face. An enormous rotten scar was there, disfiguring her lovely cheekbones.

After leaving the prison, Slughorn had taken Lily to a spa, a rather fancy one too, and there she had been scrubbed and perfumed, to her embarrassment. With one look at the final result, Slughorn had only murmured, "Good, you'll do very well, very, very well…"

Lily had been startled by the statement (after all, good for what?), but it had been put out of her mind as soon as she met Bertha. She had stared, transfixed in disgust and amazement, before turning red and apologizing profusely to the child.

"It's alright," Bertha had replied shyly. "I'm used to people staring at my face."

"But…how did you get that?" Lily asked, startled.

"I was cursed by a witch in my momma's stomach," she had replied cheerfully. "An' only a witchdoctor can cure me, but Uncle Slughorn said to keep it 'cuz 'tis good for begging. I earn two shilling a day on good days."

However, as she was complaining now, Lily did not notice the horrid scar, but only sighed in frustration at having her freedom restricted. "What better is this life than prison if I'm to be hidden away like this?"

"Oh cheer up. At least there's better food," Bertha remarked. "Oh, and Uncle says that you're to go into the closet and not come out until he says so. And if he forgets to say so, then you're to stay in there 'til tomorrow."

Bertha left, leaving Lily grumbling to herself. There was honestly nothing to do around here, and she was very confused to what Slughorn's motives were. She was sincerely homesick, and her sense of adventure was wearing thin. In London, the air was stuffy and full of smog, and as she remembered the clean, fresh air in Wiltshire, a funny butterfly feeling crept into her stomach.

Uncle Slughorn, as he told her to address him by, was not rich at all, she had realized on the first day. Either that, or he was just really stingy. He lived at an alley off Drury Lane, next to a small store called the Leaky Cauldron. She wasn't quite sure what they sold over there; in fact, she wasn't even sure what really went on in the house that she was living in, if it could be called a house. More of a cellar, really.

Apart from the rule of not being seen when guests were over, Lily was also not allowed outside onto the streets. Well, there was once that she had been told to carry the laundry from the house to the other side of Drury Lane, but that could hardly be counted as freedom. Slughorn kept mumbling about how she would be seen, and his plans ruined. And when she asked about the 'plans', he would chuckle and wave her off.

However, when he was in a bad mood, he would constantly tell her to bug off, and remind her that he was her savior. She was forever indebted to him for getting her out of that wretched prison, and that the least she could do was do as she was told. Lily was tempted more than once to remind him that he wanted to 'save' her and that she didn't ask for anything, not that she would've like to remain in prison.

There were many people living at this so-called house of his, over twelve girls, yet his only real biological daughters only stood for two of them. Arabella and Rose. Arabella, Lily had found out, worked as an actress at the theatre, and was supposedly a beauty by herself. Rose was married to a fisherman, and when she was not at the tavern, she was selling seafood.

Beds were shared between the girls because there weren't enough of them. There was a family of gypsies living in the house as well, doing special "jobs" that Lily had been enlightened on. Uncle Slughorn did a many number of jobs, but strangely, Lily did not know even one of them.

She also had not gotten any farther in searching for her father. She thought about her plans to find him constantly, until it almost became an obsession, but it was only to keep her from going crazy in her environment. Lily wasn't physically locked in the rooms or closets, but Uncle Slughorn had made it perfectly clear that he did not want her to be seen by anyone, not even his own daughters. In fact, the only people she had seen were Bertha and Slughorn himself.

She often wondered what would've happened if she never ran away from home? She wouldn't be in this mess, for one, and she could have a happy life being free to do whatever she wished. Lily often blamed her stepmother for her fate…

As the laughter of the party was carried upstairs, Lily crept closer to the opening of the closet. It wouldn't hurt, Lily thought, to take a peek, would it? She had never thought to do that before. Wanting to please Uncle Slughorn and being new to the house, Lily actually waited in the closet the whole night, eventually falling asleep.

But curiosity won her out, and tonight, she decided, she would take look. Crawling slowly and surreptitiously out into the corridor, she cautiously peered over the stairs, stifling a gasp in her mouth. The room was filled with such gaiety and resplendency that Lily was sorely tempted to join them. The men were wearing formal vests and pants, while the women wore long layered dresses.

Everyone seemed to be in a relaxed mood, even Uncle Slughorn, who was in the corner smoking a pipe. People swayed to a fiddler's music, and in the middle with all the attention was a girl with thick, dark curls in a small petticoat. And indeed she was lovely, with a fine, curvaceous figure. Her footsteps were lighter than that of a butterfly's, and as she lifted up her dress, Lily noted with envy the slim ankles, shapely, grabbing the attention of every man there.

"Bella!" they all chanted. "Bella, Bella, Bella!" And the girl whirled around one final time, collapsing onto the arms that awaited her in peals of light laughter. "Encore!" they all cried, for her dance really was enchanting and hypnotic.

Bella, Lily realized, must be Arabella, Uncle Slughorn's daughter.

After watching for a few more minutes, Lily heard loud footsteps on the stairs, and with a sigh, she hurried away from the railing and started to go into the room. She stopped cold, for she was not the only one in the room. A man was in the room lying on the bed, and soon she could see a woman joining him there, without clothes on.

With a cry of horror, she hurried into the next room and locked herself in the closet, pressing a pillow to her ears to stifle the sounds that she was afraid to hear. Of course it didn't do much. Throughout the night, the rooms were used constantly, at least two or three times. And poor Lily, the whole night, she was covering her ears with a pillow, wondering how she had gotten herself into this situation.

Thinking of this, she began to reflect on her home in Wiltshire. If it was still a home. Her real mother didn't look anything like her. Everyone always commented on how strange it was that Lily had thick, red locks while her mother had sandy, blonde colored strands. But it mattered not to Lily, for her mother was one of the kindest souls she had ever known. Unlike her stepmother, who showed so little emotion that it seemed like she didn't even care when her husband was gone.

All her other brothers and sisters took after their mom, inheriting sandy-colored hair and honey colored eyes. Only Lily had green ones. She still remembered that when she was visited by a doctor during drought season, the doctor had commented on how different she was. He had told her that she was probably a faerie child, switched at birth, because only faeries had such deep green eyes. Lily was excited at the prospect, and even more excited when he had said, "But always keep your bags on hand, for you don't know when they'll be coming back to get you."

When she had told her mother, her mother had waved it off as nonsense, and quickly dismissed the doctor, mumbling about never hiring him again for he put such nonsense stories in the heads of little girls. But Lily never forgot because it was the one story of excitement in practically her whole life.

But now look at her. Full of adventures to tell. In fact, her whole journey to London could take up a book in itself. And yet, it wasn't as happy and exciting as she had hoped. Nothing seemed to be going according to plan.

After all, hadn't she heard the guards at the prison talking about the numerous whorehouses located in London? And wasn't she in one of them? Then, on a sudden thought, she inhaled sharply in anxiety. Was this what Uncle Slughorn had in store for her? To be a common whore in his whorehouse?

* * *

Hello! Back again! and ready for summer! though I am taking summer classes ( and have summer homework. Blah. 

Just in case, as many people don't, you didn't read my message before the story, the answer to last week's trivia question was horse! And congratulations to laughingmaniac and grantinme for getting it correct!

Here is this week's (and I'll post the answer next time).

**In the French version of Harry Potter, the word "Hogwarts" was changed to what?**

**A. Poudlard**

**B. Houdlard**

**C. Foudlard**

**D. Noudlard**

Bonne chance,

_charismaticsilver_

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Okay, I know most of you won't read this. At all. I usually ignore disclaimers when I read stories too. And I'm really getting sick of typing them. But I will continue with diligence to make sure each and every one of my chapters has one. The story plot credit goes to Mary Hooper, and the character credit goes to J.K. Rowling. )

* * *

_Chapter 4_

A few mornings after the party, Slughorn greeted Lily with a big smile when she came downstairs, and even more to her consternation, he asked her how she was doing and if she needed anything.

It wasn't that the change was unwelcome, just very strange and abrupt after days of ignoring her. She turned to go about to her chores, but Slughorn called her back and told her to sit. A few moments later, he returned back with another fat old man who was smoking a pipe, unconsciously waving the smoke towards Lily.

"And there she is," Slughorn gesticulated fondly. "My prize catch. What do you think?" At first Lily was quite offended that he referred to her as a 'catch', but then she heard the word 'prize' and shrugged it off, wondering what the meeting was all about, and becoming suspicious at once. She had been waiting for something like this to happen ever since the party.

"Show your pretty teeth to him in a smile," Slughorn chuckled merrily.

Lily smiled uneasily, uncomfortable at Slughorn's panegyric for her. She had a faint idea in her mind that compared her to a prize-bred horse.

"And let those luscious, red curls down," he continued.

Lily frowned, but once again, did as she was bid, and her curls tumbled down to her back. Feeling very much like a lamb in the midst of wolves, she drew back as the fat, old newcomer rose to touch her locks, smiling. He was poorly dressed and continued to dab at the sweat running down his face unremittingly. If Slughorn thought that he could just give her away, especially to this man, then…

She grimaced in thought and planned her escape. Truly, if that were to happen, she would rather chance the streets than remain in this whorehouse. She was not to be sold; she was not a _thing_.

"Perfect, perfect," the man said in a guttering voice. _What a despicable voice_, Lily thought, _just as fat as he is_.

"Do you see what I mean man? Those eyes, and that hair! Red as ruby, and just as valuable," he said secretively. "And green as emeralds."

"You mean 'green as forest'," the man said, and they both laughed as if sharing a private joke.

With a wave of his hand, Slughorn bid Lily leave, and once again bewildered, Lily turned to do as she was bid for the third time.

However, the uneasiness grew in her stomach as she could her whispers behind her back, and, perhaps it was paranoia, but she could've sworn she also heard a clink, as if money were changing hands.

As the month went on, Lily didn't know what to do. Should she be fretting or enjoying the extra attention? The fat man had never come back again, but Slughorn hired a seamstress for her. When she asked the seamstress about what she was making, the seamstress only winked mysteriously and said, "A most magnificent garment for you, dearie." Surely not for a wedding…

* * *

Bertha had no idea what was going on either. 

"I don't know why Uncle Slughorn would do this. He's never treated any of the other girls the same. In fact, first day they came, they were set to work." Here Lily shuddered involuntarily. Thank heavens she was not one of the other girls, or else who knows what she might've lost the first day of freedom. "Perhaps 'tis for the Midsummer Fair?"

"What is that? Just a festival?" Lily asked. Bertha nodded.

"Though I still do not understand what he needs you for. Mind you, he always finds a way to earn lots of money from the fair." Her face glowed with anticipation. "There are always so many things to do! And even more to see! Last year, there was a woman who could literally twist herself into a knot!"

"Surely not!" Lily cried, amazed.

"Yes! There was! And there was a man who tamed a lion and had it perform for us. It's always so exciting! Everyone goes, the nobles to be entertained, the peasants to see the nobles, the gypsies to beg…I even heard that the king and the queen went last year!"

"No!" Lily gasped excitedly.

The king and queen…they were untouchable. In her view, they were as two fallen angels, divine and with right. To think that they could be among normal people, peasants even—why it was unimaginable!

"Yes! But if they come this year, you will not recognize them. They always come in disguise!" Bertha's voice dropped into a whisper. "Never say anything treacherous to betray the king, for you never know who he might be. Sometimes he goes as a cobbler, or just a regular noble, or even a coachman, for I heard he loves acting and theatre. The queen, to please him, may dress up like a milkmaid, or a seamstress. It's great fun!"

"Oh I will not say any treacherous," Lily promised; she respected the nobility more than Bertha knew, for she was raised as a Royalist and was completely loyal to her country, and therefore her king. Now not feeling as anxious toward Slughorn, she began to feel her hopes rising. Perhaps her father would be trading there as well! Would it not be a fond reunion?

The seamstress had carefully hand-selected all of the cloth that was going into her dress, holding the different ones up to Lily every time. Much of the materials was imported, and Lily guessed that it had to be very costly.

"The very best materials money can buy. And in every color too," the seamstress commented one day. "And I think they'll do very well, considering your purpose."

"Swell!" Slughorn boomed. "My dear Lily will be the talk of the entire London community."

"I am?" Lily spoke up.

"Why of course!" Slughorn looked genuinely surprised at her question.

"But…why?" Lily asked. "What exactly is being made here?"

"You'll know quite soon," Slughorn answered vaguely.

"Will I be going to the Midsummer Fair in the dress?" Lily questioned. She oscillated between the excitement at the prospect of attending the fair, and the fear of the cost of the treatment she was getting. By no means would she ever agree to get set up to someone she met at the fair.

Slughorn's mouth dropped open in surprise. "You already figured it out?" He let out a hearty guffaw. "By my mother's grave, I have a clever gal on my hands! Why yes, you'll be doing just that." He and the seamstress gave each other surreptitious glances.

"Really?" Lily asked excitedly. "You'd let me go? But what about me not being seen?"

The seamstress and Slughorn let out identical snorts of laughter.

"Well, you won't technically be known," he explained. "You'll be in a…well, in some sort of disguise, so don't you worry your pretty little head about being seen."

"Disguise?" Lily repeated dazedly.

"Yes, disguise!" Slughorn said, growing impatient. "You can think of it as a masquerade."

"A masquerade!" Lily breathed. "Just like the fairytale masquerade balls!"

"Yes," Slughorn smiled indulgently. "Exactly so."

* * *

On Midsummer Day, Slughorn woke Lily up just as dawn broke, and Lily was felt especially ornery at this, but then, remembering what day it was, her grumpy disposition fell away into an excited one. 

"Are we going to go out into the yard and pick flowers to decorate the house with?" Lily asked, for this was a custom in Wiltshire. Slughorn scoffed.

"Of course not! We have no time for such foolish pleasures. We, my dear, have business to do."

"Business. This early in the morning?"

"Why of course, unless you don't want to attend the festival!" Slughorn replied incredulously.

"No! Please Uncle Slughorn, I do," she said, sitting up. She saw that he had a greenish-cloth draped on his arm. "Is that my dress?"

"Yes. And Bertha will come in and help you with your hair and dress. You're to meet me downstairs when you're through," Slughorn said.

"But…"

"But?" he prompted.

"What shall I be doing at the fair?" she asked nervously.

"Just looking pretty," he replied with a smile.

"You…you're not thinking of giving me to that old man, are you?" she asked, voicing her horrifying thoughts.

Slughorn let out a laugh. "Of course not, don't be silly girl. When your time comes to become a wife, you'll know, and of course, it'll be to a much wealthier man."

Lily laughed along nervously, not really liking what she heard. She changed the subject quickly before Slughorn got any ideas in his head. "May I see my dress now?"

"Indeed you may." He held the dress out with his arms and Lily gasped. It was a gorgeous foresty green, with spangles and light glitter spread throughout. The material was one of the strangest she had ever seen, and the dress was quite small, hardly enough to cover her. Yet it was so exotic; Lily had never seen this fashion anywhere before, not even in London. Perhaps it was a new trend…yes, that was probably it.

Two hours later, Lily found herself at the fair, yet she wasn't bobbing for apples nor sightseeing the ground. Instead, she found herself in a tent, where the large sign above read:

_See a genuine forest nymph swept from the _

_Depths of the Garden of Eve. Not to _

_Be confused with a statuette, for this is _

_A genuine being. May be viewed for _

_A limited time only._

Inside the tent, a forest nymph wailed.

"Oh, quit your howling girl!" Slughorn said, lightly whacking her in the arm with a careless hand. " 'Tis not so bad, and 'tis only for three days!"

"Three days?!" Lily burst out, tears leaking out faster than before. "Three days of wearing nothing! Oh for embarrassment!"

"No! For money," Slughorn corrected matter-of-factly. "We shall make a nice sum off of you."

Lily was dressed in the exotic "dress", yet the dress did not cover her stomach nor her legs. In fact, it barely covered the swell of her breasts; her hair did most of the work. This has been the most shameful experience in her whole life, to think to be seen in nothing but rags that scarcely covered her private parts! She was supposed to be a beautiful, luring forest nymph with a lovely voice to sing, but she did not feel lovely.

She felt dirty, like a common whore.

Yet Slughorn paid her no mind. Outside the tent, people were lining up as far as the eye could see to have a glance at the exotic creature. The fat old man was yelling, "Exotic forest nymph from the Garden of Eve! Limited time only! Do not be the only one in town who did not see her!"

Lily heard this and choked back a sob, half-heartedly staring at her reflection in the pool, which, by the way, Bertha was controlling behind the screen.

"Girl, do not be silly. You owe me, anyhow," Slughorn persisted.

"What? Owe you for what?" Lily cried. "I didn't ask to be rescued from jail? And now I wish I were still in the Clink!"

"Dear," Slughorn laughed. "Of course you owe me. You owe me practically your life. After all, what with feeding you and dressing you, not to mention this expensive masquerade…why, it'll take you several lifetimes to actually be able to pay it off." Seeing Lily's unmoving face, he growled. "And if you want to go back to the Clink so bad, why, darlin', all you have to do is ask, and I'll chuck you right back in."

She should have known. That was the only she repeated to herself. She should have known that no one out of the pure goodness of their heart would do so much for her; perhaps in Wiltshire, but most definitely not in the slums of London.

He was the same as everyone else. Only after money, his greedy, grimy hands. Well, she supposed it could be worse. After all, he wasn't asking her to sell anything like the rest of his house at least. And maybe after this festival was over, maybe, just maybe, he would consider her "debt" paid and let her go on her way.

--

She was the biggest hit of the fair, clearly, with no competition at all. There were people lined all the way outside just to see this so-called nymph that Lily was pretending to be. In fact, after just the first bout of people, word seemed to spread like wildfire. An enchanting forest nymph was dancing prettily in the forest scene, with eyes like emeralds and hair like wildfire. There could not be any other explanation for her appearance.

And Lily found herself forced to danced, for Uncle Slughorn threatened to replace the sand with sweltering coals if she did not. All day, people came in and out of the tent, throwing in coins to see that enchanting dance of hers, and for a price, perhaps to hear her sing. In fact, the second day, some royals swung by her tent.

But she did not see the king and queen at all. Perhaps this year, they did not want to go to the fair. However, the most memorable part of the day was when the infamous Sirius Black came into the tent to see her. Sure, he had a beautiful French girl hanging off his arm, and granted, he only spared her a single wink, but he did notice her, did he not?

And he was extremely tall, and easily twice as handsome as every other man in the tent. Just thinking of him made Lily blush prettily. That was when she had started almost liking her role.

However, on the third day, during high noon hours, another group of finely dressed people came in to see her, and she stepped back into the shadows, hand over her heart, in horror. It was him…James, with the arrogant male from the Clink, and Arabella.

Surely he would not recognize her, after her dress and makeup. Surely not. She stood stock still, until Uncle Slughorn hissed at her to step out into the open.

Shyly, she peered around an ornamental tree.

"Look! There she is!" A male cried, pointing at her. "And what a beauty she is!" he cried, staring at her shapely legs.

Many of the women leaned forward to catch a better glance, including Arabella, who heaved a great sigh.

"Just look at how beautiful her hair is," she sighed exaggeratedly, fingering her own brunette stands. "How put to shame my coarse hair is, next to her silky red tresses."

Many of the men there quickly showered their attention back onto Arabella, refuting that claim many times over.

"Someone throw a coin in. I wish to see her dance," said another girl with long blonde hair and a fancy periwinkle dress. She nudged the man next to her impatiently, who shrugged, and nudged James.

"My good sirs and ladies," boomed the voice of Uncle Slughorn. "Do you wish to see her dance? If you throw in a good amount, you might even be blessed with the sound of her hypnotic voice."

"Go on, James," the fellow who was standing next to him said impatiently. And James threw in a coin that reflected gold in the glittering pool. Suddenly, the ripples in the pool became faster and widespread, as Bertha, seeing the gold coin, worked harder through inspiration.

"For that, good sir, she shall give both song and dance." Slughorn gestured for her to hurry up.

But Lily still found her legs stuck to the ground. A few people tittered impatiently.

"Give the lass a few moments; she is quite shy and has been like that ever since we caught her," Slughorn hastily explained, glaring at Lily.

"I would sure believe so," came the voice of James, who smiled at her. Suddenly finding her courage, she began to twirl hesitantly, growing steadily bolder as time passed.

After her pirouette, she slowly spun to a stop and sat on the rock, dangling her feet into the pool, singing a different version of her jail song.

"_And now see me,_

_Clear and bright as the forest green._

_Ivy…"_

After her song, a pattering of applause echoed in the tent, and slowly, the nobles filed out to leave the tent, leaving Lily with a feeling of relief and, unexpectedly, giddiness.

Soon, the only people left were the James and his friend, who was staring hungrily at her.

"Look at her fine figure," he said loudly enough for her to hear. "What I would pay to lie with her for a night."

"Now Lucius, you know what they say. A dog can't lie with a bitch unless he raises the pup," James replied. "And what would you do if you sired a child that had a nymph for a mother?"

"Who cares?" Lucius scoffed. "It's the novelty of lying with the mother. It doesn't matter anyhow, a child, that is, as long as I lie with nymph." He gestured to Slughorn, who promptly waded to their side.

"Yes, good sir, what may I do for you?"

"Name your price," demanded Lucius to a bewildered Slughorn.

"Price?"

"For one night," Lucius bit out impatiently.

"Oh but sir, that would be such a cost," Slughorn replied, putting his hands in front of him to calm Lucius down. "After all, Sir Malfoy, this is a rare creature, hardly one for frolicking with."

"Price does not matter," Sir Malfoy replied. "In fact, I will offer…" They drew into the background to whisper so the horrified Lily could not eavesdrop any longer.

Slughorn would not do that to her? Would he? She was not a common whore; she would first see her own death! Sending a nervous glance to the concealed Bertha, she bit back another sob that threatened to rise in her throat.

"Done! Tomorrow night then, good sir!" Slughorn waved enthusiastically to the retreating pair.

"No!" Lily cried desperately, but it was in vain, for the tent flap flapped shut and Slughorn proceeded to ignore her, turning back only to comment on one thing.

"You are very lucky that the prestigious Sir Malfoy has taken a liking to you! What a fair price he has paid," Slughorn said, weighing the coin bag in his hand. "Well, what are you doing girl? The day is not done! Continue on!"

* * *

Well, that took me a long time to type out! The chapters seem to get harder and harder to type! Argg... 

Well, summer classes are almost over and soon, I'll be on vacation! Yes! Traveling up north!

Hope you all are having a wonderful summer! Because...I am really dreading when school starts up again.

charismaticsilver

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